Does Everything Need A Title?
by Socially Suicidal
Summary: While she didn't know exactly what to call it, Sakura took comfort in the knowledge that it was there and it wasn't going anywhere. Why did everything need to have a title, anyway? GaaSaku One-Shot Shippuden


It was nice writing in Sakura's point of view for once! (A lot less pressure, to be honest). **Please understand**, I really wanted the focus of this one to be on Sakura's train of thought – what she's thinking, how the thoughts evolve. If I get a bunch of reviews correcting sentence structure and format, I'll of course appreciate the thoughts and criticism, but I am asking that you just keep in mind my attempt at writing thoughts realistically.

**Warning:** I rated this **M** (FIRST ONE EVER) just because of some… er, references. Really nothing raunchy (I'm far too bashful for that) but I like to be on the side of caution.

_Summary:_ While she didn't know exactly what to call it, Sakura took comfort in the knowledge that it was there and it wasn't going anywhere. Why did everything need to have a title, anyway? GaaSaku One-Shot Shippuden

Does Everything Need a Title?

By Socially Suicidal

Disclaimer:I do _not _own Naruto.

"_Why do you like him so much, Sakura-chan?"_

We, meaning myself, Naruto, Sai, Team Kurenai, Team Asuma, and Team Gai, were all out to lunch one day when Naruto asked me that question. I really couldn't give him a straight answer without sounding like a lighted headed, gooey, love sick girl.

All I needed was for them to think I was like _that_ again.

I tried to think of how to explain it while avoiding sounding like I did when I was twelve, being that I was now nearing eighteen and entering into the adventure that was adulthood. Hah. What a joke that was. Being a shinobi had a way of aging children far before their time. A childhood was a distant dream once a child was enrolled in the Academy. However, some children had their childhood forcibly stolen from under their soft little button noses before they had nary a chance to learn to feed themselves or sit upright. The thought made me think of the current topic of discussion, and I promptly pushed the notion away in favor of focusing on answering the question at hand.

Why do I like him so much? Leave it to Naruto to ask such a shallow question. There are so many reasons I do, I mean, how could I just summarize all the things that drew me to him in the first place? Or what keeps me wanting him now? I couldn't, I just… well I… I just couldn't (heavens, I hate when I stutter).

I briefly considered mentioning a few small things that crossed my mind immediately after he asked me that stupid question- small idiosyncrasies I'd rather not live without - maybe a few short stories about our times together, but promptly squashed the idea. How could I expect them to understand, appreciate them like I have come to? I had to stifle a smile at the thought, as the humorous image of the expressions on some of the faces of my friends after a story about that time I had finally found sand in places sand simply did not belong for the _last_ time I could allow myself to tolerate it. I covered my smirking lips with my hand, deciding that no, in fact, they would **not** understand the… preciousness (hah, hardly) of the memory.

Ino gave Naruto a short slap on the arm, whining, "Now look what you did, Idiot! Forehead is thinking so hard that vein is pulsing in her temple!"

I shook my head wordlessly, coming over my moment of speechless idiocy, "It's okay, Naruto, honestly I just got lost in my thoughts trying to answer the question adequately. I don't think I can really sum it up," I scratched my nose sheepishly, out of more nervous habit than need.

"_Well, what exactly is your relationship with him anyway?"_

Gah, damn TenTen and her difficult, complex questions.

Really, this question was neither difficult nor complex if one knew the answer. This could be seen as partially my own fault, as I hadn't thought to ask him the last time I was with him, but I like to think it wasn't. Its not as if I was easily distracted, it was just he excelled greatly in distracting me, even if he wasn't entirely conscious of it.

Gaara, being the simplistic creature he was, never felt the need to specify exactly what our social title would be if we were asked.

We would meet when it was possible, be it his visiting Konoha on official business or my missions that sent me abroad, sometime to Suna, other times (later on) I extended my mission time to stop there. It started at first with chance meetings at a park in his village. I should have realized, though, that meeting him late at night on rooftops or in the middle of the day in the market was of a greater volition than chance ever had. I didn't, however, and our meetings continued, escalated, to lunch, sometimes a late dinner, long hours in his office spent in silence as we both diligently attacked his mountains of paperwork, or quiet walks enjoying the peacefulness nights in Konoha had to offer.

Even when things became intimate, that night in my apartment when he had staggered in after his first real night drinking with Naruto and his friends (romantic, right? Our first time was under the influence. I can't help but be thankful for his overconsumption, as ashamed as I am to admit it), I hadn't thought to sit him down and demand an answer as to what this thing going on between us was called. It simply was - it didn't need an explanation, a label. It existed in harmony (for the most part, I could **hardly **say that pursuing any kind of relationship with Sabaku no Gaara was without its turbulence and frustration) without a name, and that's how it happily remained.

Until now. The weapons expert was looking at me, patiently, as was the rest of the shinobi seated at the table (with the usual exceptions, of course, like Shino, Chouji, and Sai who all seemed to be focused elsewhere – Neji seemed to only offer the amount of interest that could be deemed as polite).

I didn't have an answer for her, and I voiced just that, the information finding the ears of a disappointed brunette.

"_Ah Tenten you are so old fashion! Who really cares what they are formally, Sakura got her self a man! A handsome one, even if he is a little socially… odd."_

That wasn't really a question. But it was memorable, due to the discomfort it caused. That Ino, she was so inappropriate.

I didn't appreciate her talking about Gaara like that (though a voice in my head told me it was true anyway). I wouldn't have minded if she has stated it a little more… delicately. But it was never in her nature to do so. That would be considered "mature," something many a blonde in my life certainly were not.

Except for Temari. She was one of those kids that was forced to learn what life was really like, and fast, when she was growing up. Kankuro too, actually, I suppose the same was said for all of the Sabaku siblings. Temari was more dirty blonde, anyway. I digress. It was a stupid comment to make.

"_Does he get… I don't know, jealous a lot? You have a lot of male friends and all. He just seems to me like the jealous type, no offense."_

Kiba looked, honestly, a little uncomfortable with his own question. It wasn't often that the confident male appeared to be anything but, well, confident. I stared at him a moment before a reply immediately fell from my lips.

"None taken. He can have a jealous streak, but it usually amounts to nothing. Everyone gets a little jealous, sometimes." I am ashamed to say that was the first (but the only!) time I was not honest in my response to their questions. My dishonesty wasn't without good reason, though (which is still no excuse, I should probably stop trying to rationalize my white lie) as I doubted Gaara would appreciate my slinging his privacy all over the village.

The Kazekage did indeed have a jealous streak, but came and went in regards to intensity. Sometimes, he seemed apathetic and hardly effected at all if I mentioned my seeing one of my male counterparts or if I told him about a conversation or whatnot I had with them. Other times, however, his reaction was completely different. I supposed his jealousy was founded purely on his discomfort with the entire situation, perhaps with a lack of self-value and esteem on his part, but maybe that's just my way of excusing his occasional possessive outbursts. It wasn't as if they were exceptionally _bad_, I mean it never got to a point of anything too crazy, but there would be shouting (on my part), things broken (mostly on my part, but his sand had contributed to that in the past), and the most serious, pushing and shoving or grabbing, things that were physical but not downright aggressive. We both contributed on that end.

If you put two short tempered (okay that was mostly me, again) people in a situation like that, things are bound to happen.

But I didn't think they would understand.

"_Do you believe it is entirely safe to involve yourself with him, Sakura-san?"_

I still don't understand why Neji insisted upon calling me "Sakura-san." It seemed he only used the honorific when we were with other people. He called me plain old Sakura the many times I had healed him from training and missions. In fact, I considered him one of my close friends.

That's exactly why I was bristled by his question, but didn't lose myself as I would if someone other than him had said it. It also helped to know he didn't mean to offend Gaara by it. Neji had clearly picked up on my slightly under exaggerated response to Kiba's question, the cunning man he was (hey, you don't become a prodigy for one of the most respected clans in the village on good looks, you know). He was concerned more of my paper-heartedness than anything else. Neji's thinking was less along the lines of "he will physically hurt you" and more so "he might really fuck up and not even notice if he hurts your feelings," in a more formal and less vulgar, Neji-ish way that is. That boy and his propriety. Will he ever learn to let lose? I'm getting sidetracked again.

I'd be dishonest if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind at some point or another. How could it not? He was Sabaku no Gaara. The unstable jinchuuriki. The mass murderer of the desert. He was a self-proclaimed monster, loving and living for only himself. He had attacked me once, my precious people, and had tried to kill them.

But Gaara was gentle. Broken, but solid in his resolve. Mislead, unloved, neglected. Slowly mending fragments of a shell of someone that had never gotten the chance to ever assemble himself in the first place. Gaara was so much like a child in so many ways, he had so many things he didn't know about, never experienced, but he of course, like a child, was curious about it all. Shy, unsure, afraid, even… but curious – willing. He had made himself better, into a man more than fit to be a Kage. He had died for his village, a love so strong that not even the certain threat of death could keep him from defending the people he had grown to love, and that love was what allowed him to return – reciprocated love, understanding finally from an old stubborn woman who had never accepted him in his lifetime.

What did I have to fear from a man so terrified of his past, of what he used to be, that he still couldn't sleep a whole night through without waking up, sweating, horrified?

Gaara was always so gentle with me. Treating me like broken glass as if it wasn't he who was so damaged he could fall to pieces with the blowing of the desert wind?

"I had considered the possible dangers, Neji, but honestly, I feel safer with him than I do anyone, than I ever have with anyone," I replied in earnest, trying to find the words to express how I felt in the sincerest way possible.

The Hyuga prodigy seemed a little surprised by my confession, but accepted it with a terse nod of his head nonetheless.

As per usual, a certain ebony haired nin seemed to be the only one of the group not affected at all as he took advantage of the sudden silence that had broken over the group and spoke.

"_Ugly, do you find his performance in the bedroom to be as satisfactory as it is on the battlefield? I have read many things that link the two."_

I swear, my cheeks burned so badly I thought my face was going to melt off. I sputtered for a moment, staring wide-eyed at the completely nonchalant façade of the ex-Root member staring impassively back at me.

"I – uh – Sai! How – wha!"

The more conservative members of the group had the decency to shy their eyes away, pink shadowing their cheeks, but I did notice _none _of them even attempted to come to my rescue. The other, more abrupt shinobi present – I'm sure it's obvious who was included in that category – grinned in merriment at my response; a few urged me to answer.

Leave it to Sai, honestly, to force me into _those_ kinds of thoughts while sitting at a table with some of the most renowned and promising shinobi in my village staring at me, waiting for an answer. What could – should – I say to that? It was entirely inappropriate! Not table talk in the slightest!

My rebellious mind entertained an idea, suggesting going ahead and telling them all how gentle and quiet and downright _loving_ the notorious Kazekage could be in his most intimate moments. That should shock the pants right off of their smirking faces- and teach them a thing or two about presuming things! (I don't think the sheets or pillows or drapes or _anything _in my room that had faced the wrath of the sand wielding nin would agree on his tenderness, as they were usually the objects to take the brunt of the strain of his variety of vice-like grips or rampaging sand during our… erm, bouts of … romping).

The rational side of my mind, however, had me tugging on the long sleeves of the shirt I wore, subconsciously covering up the finger-tip shaped bruises that could be found across my pale skin from a few nights before when my redheaded lover had come home just a bit agitated and it had subsequently shown through when he had lifted me against the wall and –

Okay, Sakura, stop right there. But, heavens, the crest fallen look on his face the next morning when I woke up to him staring in horror at the just appearing marks marring my skin nearly broke my heart. I assured him that he hadn't hurt me and I wasn't mad at him in the slightest, but he didn't seem to hear my assurances. The way he had attempted to make it up to me during those early morning hours, however, had an entirely different effect on a dissimilar area of my anatomy.

I flushed, swallowing a rather large gulp of water before I spoke, "That is something I am _not_ going to talk about."

Kiba just shrugged, leaning back into his chair, "I'm definitely taking that as a yes, just based on your reaction."

Happily, I ignored him, engaging Neji and Tenten in some distracting conversation about the genin that had graduated from the Academy this year in order to take the attention as far away from me as possible.

Thankfully, my luck changed as the interrogation permanently ended as the soft sputtering of Hinata's calm voice announced the presence of a certain redheaded topic of conversation when she spotted the man lingering outside the window of the restaurant. I always knew I loved that girl.

It may have seemed to everyone else that his greeting was cold, unfeeling towards me. But it didn't matter. I had felt that hand fleetingly brush across my shoulder when he came to stand behind my chair, fingertips lingering as long as possible as to not be detected. I had seen how he heaved an almost invisible, quiet sigh of relief when he first came through the door and spotted me sitting a ways across the room

I didn't care if they couldn't see it. I could. I loved it. I didn't care why; I just loved the way I felt. The way he made me feel. It was there and it was good and it wasn't going away.

Turning to him, seated next to me silently and attentively listening – but never participating unless addressed directly – to the group's conversations, as a smile of raw emotion, happiness, slipped across my lips. He appeared to be confused at first, but then I saw his brow relax, the corner of his lip turning up in that serene expression that only seemed to exist for me.

I didn't need to name it to feel the raw realness of it.

My fingers had sought his under the table and Gaara pulled my hand decisively into his lap, entwining our fingers securely.

_**Go Forth and Review**_


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